


Everything and the Kitchen Sink

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Birthday Sex, Counter Sex, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was wearing only his shirt, and damn if that wasn't a nice sight to wake up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything and the Kitchen Sink

**Author's Note:**

> Maz [commented](http://yourunderwaterskies.tumblr.com/post/60960904420/shameless-miss-pauling-scout-6210-words-nc-17) about a fic, joking that it had everything but the kitchen sink. This lead to an exchange which ended with her challenging me to finish it. Also, if teleporters exist in the TF2 universe, then so can [hose faucets.](http://www.efaucets.com/f/kitchen-faucet-with-sprayer.shtml).

The clock was ticking down. The bed sheets were a mess, so of course, that meant she was looking through papers. Even in her down time she couldn't let up. He pulled the straps on her pink camisole down. She didn't even try and put them back up, which was pretty damn awesome, as it gave him a great show.

Sometimes he still had to bask in the fact that he got to do this whenever he wanted, and unless he was like, groping her ass in public, she'd let him. 

"Your birthday is next week," she said. She glanced up from whatever business-crap memo she had been reading.

"Yep, I'll be twenty-five, a half a frickin' century."

"Is there anything you want in particular?" Miss Pauling said.

"Whatever you want to get me, I'll like," Scout said.

"You know how I feel about surprises. It's much better to get someone something they want. I'd rather negotiate something than waste my time," she said.

"You. That's what I want," he said.

"You ask for that every year," she said. Her glasses had fallen down, as undone as her bun.

"It's all I want. Well, that and for my team to win, but you can't do anythin' about that," she said.

"Well, I suppose some creative blackmailing and sabotage could probably work," she said.

"Naah, as hot as you goin' all mafia girl on their ass, I want my team to win fair and square," Scout said.

"All right, consider it done," she said.

"You say that like you're gonna take a hit out on someone," Scout said. 

She laughed darkly–literally darkly, comic book villain and everything. But it didn't reach her eyes, because even as she tried for the mafioso, he could see just a little bit of sweetness through.

And it was every damn day her found a reason to love her a little more.

*

When he woke up that morning, he found her at the kitchen sink, rinsing something off as the pan sizzled from leftover heat. It was already definitely the best day around, given that she rarely stayed late enough to sleep over and wake up with him. Morning smells of butter and bacon, fresh maple syrup and pancakes filled the air.

"Good morning," she said.

She was wearing only his shirt, and damn if that wasn't a nice sight to wake up to. He kissed her neck, rolling up the shirt so he could feel the fine curves of her ass. She ground back against him, enough to tent up his boxers. 

"It's one damn fine mornin'," he said.

"Breakfast is ready," she said.

"Mmmm, yeah, remember how you said I could have anythin' I wanted? I'm callin' it in," he said, low against her ear. She arched against him, with a little shiver. Man, he loved turning her on.

"At the kitchen?" she said. "It's pretty cold on the floor."

He cupped her ass, unable to keep his hands to himself. "Not the floor."

"The counters? I'm going to have to bleach everything when we're done," she said.

"Tell you what, if you let me do that, _I'll_ bleach it down," he said.

"You know how I am. I won't be able to let it go until I do it myself," Miss Pauling said.

"Then you'll do it, and I'll strip down and make my muscles dance to keep you entertained," Scout said.

He heard this little sound, a held back laugh. It was so cute when she'd fake a cough just to act like he hadn't totally shattered her composure and made her laugh.

"Y-you'll do that, huh?" she said. She was still on the brink of laughing. She broke off into a gasp as he slipped his hand into her panties and began to work them down. In a second, he hand those lacy little purple panties on the floor. _Scouts do everything faster._

"Hell yeah," he said. 

Scout lifted her up, resting her at the edge of the large sink. He pulled down the hose faucet and sprayed down warm water over the shirt, until it clung tight to every beautiful curve of hers. Scout pushed the faucet to cold, making her let out a shriek and squirm as she clung on even tighter.

"Scout!"

"Oh yeah, you'll be calling my name before this is over," he said.

Her nipples showed through his shirt, and he rubbed over them. Drops of water slid down her neck. She arched her back, offering up just that much more to lick.

She kissed his neck, his chest, and whatever else she could reach at this angle. With his thumb, he push the faucet back to warm. The water cascaded down her back and into the sink. He gripped the hose and pointed it right between her legs, full blast of warm water.

She clung tighter to him, a shivery little moan in the back of her throat. He angled the hose up more and she squirmed. Her hips ground against him, rubbing them together to the beat of her uneven breaths. Her leg had begun to shake, her grip on him tight enough to be painful.   
It was only when she twisted the fabric of his shirt so tight as to almost rip it, a faraway, pleased expression on her face, that he let the hose fall to the sink. Water sloshed down the drain, until she nudged it off with her shoulder. Miss Pauling always opted for shorter counters. Of course, she didn't do it with fucking on them in mind, but he had to love her foresight anyways.

She wrapped her legs about him, drawing him closer. the metal handle of the cabinet dug into him, but he couldn't pay attention to stupid things like pain.

"—You're going to slip and break your neck," she said.

"Wanna bet, sweetheart?" 

"I don't make bets with you anymore. Last time, I ended up falling in love with you," she said.

"Great bet," he whispered against her ear. _"Best bet."_

She shivered as he entered her. He buried his face against her shoulder, her wet skin a delicious contrast to how warm she felt inside. Each thrust brought the slight discomfort that they could be dislodged at any moment, slip on water or have her topple back into the sink. But that gave it a spice, a perfect edge. She clung to him tight enough to leave marks, her nails deep into him. He was all that was holding her up, so it made the pain all that sweeter.

"...This one I just might win, though," she said. Her breath sensual and warm against his face.

She tightened around him, driving him beyond what he could take. The moment he tried to speak, she kissed him hard enough to make him see stars. She was more merciless than he'd ever seen her, pumping so fast and hard that his knees shuddered from the sheer intensity.

She knew exactly what she was up to as she gripped him harder, grinding herself against him.

It was hearing her moan that undid him completely. She usually held back, bit her lips or the back of her palm. Unbridled gasping, and beautiful whimper of pleasure, with her face buried against him.

He came hard enough to be a surprise, wordless and leaning forward too far in the heat of the moment. She let out a little cry as she fell back into the sink. The fall knocked the faucet on, and water splashed down over her again.

He pushed on the edge of the counter to hold himself up. "B-babe, you all right? You stuck?" 

"I might be," she said

"Your ass is so fine, it friggin' killed the sink," he said.

"It's _not_ funny," she said.

"No, it's friggin' hilarious. Now hold on, miss _ass_ assin I'm takin' you for a ride."  
He lifted her up out of the sink, twirling her around until she was bareass naked on solid ground again. 

"You are _not_ giving me that as a new nickname," she said.

"You can't fight the names you earn, babe," he said.

"I can damn well try," she said.

"Come on, babe," Scout said.

"You know the rules. You only get silly nicknames on holidays and birthdays and when no one else is around," Miss Pauling said.

"Then it falls into both, because _everybody_ knows my birthday is a national holiday," Scout said.

"You might as well get them all out in one day," she said.

"Avengers _ass_ emble." He snickered at that one. Sometimes, he just killed himself with his damn fine wit.

"Yes, yes....Your pancakes are probably cold by now," she said.

"They can be warmed up. Speakin' of warmin'---" He ran off to the bedroom, and returned with blanket. Off the bed. When he got back, it came to mind that he probably should've grabbed towels, but hey, they'd have to wash the blanket anyways, so it was all good.

She'd pulled off his wet shirt and left it in the skin. Water drops covered her pale skin. He had to admit, just a sight like that was one of the best gifts he could ever have. Even better, he got to see her like that about every damn day. 

"Thanks for the show," he said in a low voice. As low as he went, anyways.

Scout wrapped the dark blanket about the both of them. Her knee bumped into his as he sat Indian style on the floor. He took a big bite of one of the already cut up pancakes and just savored the perfect fluffiness and thick drizzle of maple syrup.

"You make some damn good pancakes," Scout said.

She took a bite off his plate. Her eyes closed as she savored the goodness of her own cooking.   
Anybody else who did that other than his ma would've gotten a fist to the face. Instead, he just leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She could do whatever the hell she wanted, even eat the whole damn thing, as far as he was concerned. He'd give up pancakes for her, and there wasn't a whole lot of people he'd do that. Even his ma knew not to expect leftovers when it came to pancakes. 

"Damn, you'll have to work hard next year to top this," he said.

"I'll say, the day isn't even over yet. I'm off all day today, I might add," she said.

"Seriously, a whole frickin' day off? How the hell did you manage _that_?"

"You know I can't share those kinds of details, Scout," Miss Pauling said.

"Kay, I'll just let my mental image be you bein' hot and awesome, like always. Ain't that right, Hitman Baby?" he said.

"I'll accept that one," she said with a wry smile.

"Hell yeah."

He left the plate balanced between them, enough for both of them to share. There was a whole stack more of pancakes on a plate up on the space of counter they hadn't fucked on, and a whole bunch more time with her. He could only assume that she'd possibly taken over Australia to get a day off. Really, a shiny new Australia and the cutest, hottest, best girl he'd ever known around. All his, not just for a day, but for fricking ever if he had anything to say about it.

And really, he couldn't ask for anything better than that.


End file.
